Read Enchanted Dreams Online

Authors: Nancy Madore

Tags: #American Light Romantic Fiction, #Erotica - General, #Fiction - Adult, #Fantasy - Short Stories, #Romance: Modern, #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Fiction, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Erotic fiction, #Erotica - Short Stories, #Erotica, #Romance - Short Stories, #Short Stories

Enchanted Dreams (6 page)

"See that couple over there?" she began, exclaiming immediately afterwards, "Don't make it so obvious!"

Dan nodded conspiratorially and tossed his napkin on the floor with an exaggerated flourish. Maryanne struggled to contain her laughter as Dan made a show of casually bending over to pick up his dropped napkin while surreptitiously stealing a glance in the direction she had indicated. The straightforward, uncomplicated person that he was made the scene all the more comical.

"The woman who looks like she's been sucking on a sour ball?" he whispered after a long and lengthy ordeal just to get a glimpse.

Maryanne giggled. "That's her," she confirmed. She leaned in and lowered her voice, growing more serious. "Her husband has been staring openly at me all night."

Dan looked momentarily confused. "Well, you're a beautiful woman," he said in a matter-of-fact manner, as if to add, "What do you expect?"

"Right in front of her!" she added more adamantly.

Dan drew back and paused, but there was a light coming on in his eyes. "Oh, yeah, women hate that."

"Women hate that," she echoed, "because it's destructive. It causes them to deteriorate inside. Don't look at me like I'm being overly dramatic. And I realize that it's in a man's nature to constantly observe women. They can't help it, as they're so quick to point out, but that's exactly what I'm saying. That's why it's impossible for relationships to work."

"But it seems like a rather small thing, considering…"

"Well, of course, I'm not just talking about
looking
here. What I'm referring to is that
interest,
that overabundance of attentiveness and courtesy that men show to the women they have not yet been intimate with. In and of itself, even that might be tolerable if not for the utter
lack
of interest they show to the women they
have
been intimate with!"

"Do you really think it's as bad as that?"

"It's often worse."

"Well, if women know this about men, and it's the way men are, as you say, can't the women work around it?"

"They can and do work around it," Maryanne replied. She was completely relaxed now and spoke conversationally, explaining her philosophies without the slightest rancor. Her eyes were wide, and she even felt a bit excited. "But that doesn't mean they're not deteriorating while they're doing it."

"Forgive me if I seem a little callous here, but aren't you blowing this a little out of proportion? Most of the guys I know would never do any more than look."

"Whether or not he acts on his interest in other women is irrelevant." Maryanne was pleased that Dan wasn't simply patronizing her, or, worse yet, trying to steer her away from what some men might consider an uncomfortable topic. He was taking her seriously enough to disagree with her, and she appreciated that. "Because the damage will already be done. See, women also have instincts that appear to favor more short-term relationships."

"Okay, now you definitely have my attention."

"A woman's most fundamental need, at her core—and I'm not talking about human survival here but
female
survival, something she needs to keep her femaleness alive—is to be desirable." She paused for effect, noticing that he was hanging on her every word. She let this first idea sink in before completing her thought. "Almost every single natural behavior of a man—
after
he's had sex with a woman—is designed to diminish her belief that she is desirable. I think it is an unconscious effort to ultimately destroy her desirability to other men."

Dan sucked in his breath. "Wow!" He turned discreetly to look at the woman she had singled out before, this time observing her more carefully. Maryanne casually observed the woman as well. The couple had clearly been together a long time; the wife was even beginning to resemble the husband. She had little, if any, visible signs of femininity or sexuality left. There was a sadness behind her eyes that somehow softened the bitter twist of her lips. She was staring past her husband indifferently. Dan had caught the husband ogling Maryanne when he suddenly turned, and the man looked guiltily away. Dan turned back to Maryanne, his expression tragic. She smiled.

"You see?" she asked, knowing that he did.

"You make an interesting point," he conceded. "But I'm not ready to accept defeat just yet. Let me think about it a minute." He picked up his fork and knife and cut off a bit of steak. Maryanne watched him as he chewed on it thoughtfully. She couldn't help chuckling as she watched him, a bit too gleefully for the occasion perhaps, but she was so delighted to be able to have this kind of open discussion with a man. She had always known that her observations were different from those of other people, men and women alike; hers were much more cynical and pessimistic. She couldn't help seeing things for what they were, but she had learned to keep most of these observations to herself. She tried her best to acquiesce to the accepted viewpoint, seemingly agreeing with all that was politically correct in an effort to fit in with those around her. At times she felt like a chameleon, always changing her own brilliant colors to mimic the much less appealing ones of those around her. There were times when she even doubted herself, wondering if she really was viewing things correctly after all, but her efforts to change only gave more credence to her original viewpoint and she was obliged, however reluctantly, to keep it. So now, to actually share that viewpoint with another person—a man, no less—and actually have it cause him to stop and think was terribly exciting for her. Dan, for all of his optimistic thinking—she had spotted that in him immediately—was not one to ignore a strong argument that had merit. She waited eagerly to see what he would do with the ideas she had shared with him, sipping on her drink in the interim.

Dan swallowed his steak and looked at her. Just as Maryanne expected, he was cleverly going to place the ball back in her court by pointing out some similar inconsistencies in women. "You know," he began tentatively and thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the conversation as well, "there are plenty of women out there who lose interest in men, too, after they've had their way with them…playing all kinds of cruel games and generally screwing with their heads."

But Maryanne had already thought of this. "If you think about it for a minute," she countered, "you will realize that that actually proves my original point. A woman who plays head games with a guy usually isn't all that interested in him to begin with. She either wants something from him or she's giving in to his persistent advances for some other reason. She doesn't have any genuine feelings for him. And this is the point—a woman's disinterest is the only thing that can hold a man's interest. He's still interested in her because
he really hasn't had her yet
. She allows him to hang on because it satisfies her need to feel desirable, but since she doesn't really love him, she'll just keep using and abusing him. And for as long as she doesn't care about him, she will keep his full attention. But if she falls in love with him, what happened to that woman over there will eventually happen to her. Even if a man tries to fight this instinct, his soul will be crying out for someone new. He might not have the guts to act on it, like you said—but
instinctually
he will become more aware and interested in almost every other woman, and she will
know.
"

Dan was shaking his head, but his mouth was full of food so she continued. "Just think about it. It's true."

He forced his food down with a gulp. "So if you really believe this, you go out with a guy, what? Once? Twice? How long before it starts to go to shit?"

"I don't know," she replied thoughtfully. "I haven't figured that out yet." She dipped her head, suddenly shy, and tapped her long, glossy fingernails together in front of her nervously.

Dan gave her a funny look, but he was smiling. "Come on," he teased. "You must have an idea. How many dates does it take to get to the jerk inside the man?" he asked with the same rhythm and inflection as the cartoon owl who asked, "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll lollipop?"

Maryanne laughed. "Remarkably few, if I were to guess."

"So how am I doing?" he asked. "Will I even make it through the night?" Maryanne looked at him in surprise, and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean that like it sounded. Jeez!" He shook his head. "We
are
jerks!" But his eyes still sparkled with humor.

"I don't think of men as jerks," Maryanne told him. "I just think that relationships between men and women have a short life. Does it have to be somebody's fault? Women are just as responsible."

She once again had his full attention. "Go on," he said, narrowing his eyes dubiously.

"I'm a realist." She shrugged. "But most women aren't. They stubbornly deny what is happening and ignore their inner voice that is crying out for attention—attention that can only be found in a new relationship. Now both of them are ignoring her and she really starts to deteriorate. Perhaps women are too sensitive. Perhaps our feminine egos are too fragile. But there it is. Many women just go with it, like that woman over there seems to have done. But you can see by looking at her that something is missing, right? You can see that the life has gone out of her? Probably she's moderately healthy otherwise, and lives a fairly normal life. But her femininity and passion are utterly gone."

Dan snuck another glance at the woman and seemed dismayed to find her husband eyeing Maryanne yet again. "Why doesn't she leave that bastard?" he asked, perturbed.

Maryanne laughed. "When she married him, it had probably already started. That's why women are so hot on marriage. They think it will bring his interest back. When it doesn't, I'm sure these women are devastated at first. That's why
Cosmo
sells so many magazines with nine hundred different ways to get his attention. But, by then, who knows? Maybe there were kids on the way, or perhaps she depended on him financially. And if you push a part of yourself aside for long enough, it will eventually die." She looked at him. "You see, he couldn't help that her loving him took all the intrigue away, and she couldn't help that having no power to intrigue made her unappealing. Both were simply responding to what was."

"And you still date, believing this?"

She laughed. "Like most women, I am a hopeless romantic."

"Do you believe in love?"

"I do! That's just it. But I think that sometimes love means letting go."

Dan sat there for moment, thinking. "You know," he said, "what I'd like to do is prove you wrong. I really would. But in order to do that, I'm assuming I'd have to come up with some evidence. Maybe find some shmuck out there who's actually still enamored by the woman in his life. That's really what we're talking about here, right? She wants to feel special. She wants him to treat her like she's special, even though the instinct inside him is saying, 'Been there, done that, losing interest,' right?" He waited for her to nod her head. "I think there
are
men out there like that. Men who are more interested in the woman they're with than any other women."

"Well!" said Maryanne, impressed. She couldn't help finding his optimistic, I-would-like-to-fix-this attitude extremely attractive. "You thinking it and it being true are different things," she reminded him.

"Okay, but, come on now," he said in an extremely reasonable, almost reproving tone of voice. "
Your
thinking that you're right doesn't necessarily make it true, either."

And in that moment Maryanne knew that she was hooked. What she was going to do about it, she hadn't yet decided. But what she had discovered in him so far—his intelligence, his open-mindedness and now, his strength of character—made him suddenly seem irresistible. She knew that her instincts had already singled him out. And in that instant, in that sudden moment of realization, she felt joy—but only for that single instant. For in the next, she had already begun to mourn the inevitable loss.

"Touché," was all she said.

As if he already sensed his victory, Dan settled back in his chair and relaxed. Was it just her imagination, wondered Maryanne, or was he, too, already aware of it?

"Mmm," Dan murmured thoughtfully. "So now all I have to do is find a man who is smart enough to override this…instinct, as you call it, and continue to show an interest in the woman he's with. Is that it?"

"Well, that would definitely be a good start."

"Mmm," he said again. His lips twitched to hold back a slight smirk that was struggling to be set free on his features. "Where could I find such a man?" Encouraged by her growing smile, he continued on this theme, making a pretense of looking around the room curiously. "I wonder where," he murmured.

Maryanne decided to play along. She, too, began to look around the room, but more skeptically than he was doing. "I don't know," she said doubtfully. "It doesn't look promising."

"Well, then," he suddenly announced with conviction. "I guess I'll just have to prove it to you myself!"

Maryanne threw her head back and laughed. Game, set and match! she thought, admiring how he'd handled it. But when she recovered, she looked him over doubtfully, one eyebrow raised high. "You?" she asked. But she was only teasing him, and they both knew it.

"Sure, why not?" he replied with a casual air. "I always say, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself."

"So who's the lucky girl?" she now wanted to know.

"Ooh." He tried to look a little put out. But he recovered quickly. "You realize the only way you're ever going to know for sure whether or not I'm proving you wrong is if you're right there, seeing it for yourself."

"Mmm." Now it was Maryanne's turn to consider. "I guess that seems fair." But truthfully, aside from this bantering, which was engaging and fun in and of itself, she really had no idea if he was serious about it. Was this just a line to get her home for the night? Probably. But what did it matter? If it was just a line, it was certainly one of the more original ones she'd encountered.

Just then, the waiter came to offer them dessert.

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